Moment
by de.la.esperanza
Summary: "Lost in this moment with you. I am completely consumed. My feelings so absolute. There's no doubt" One-Shot


Moment

Lost in this moment with you  
I am completely consumed  
My feelings so absolute  
There's no doubt

Keith Anderson "Lost in This Moment with You"

Will Parry walked down the road feeling the familiar feeling of his heart cracking in two. This feeling was mirrored by Kirjava's heart. He should be used to it because he made the trip to the park bench almost every day now but still it hurt and burned like a piece of his poor battered heart was missing. He suffered through the pain of this wound opening in hopes of being near or reminded of the piece that was missing, his Lyra.

Will settled into the worn bench and felt his broken heart race. His fingers moved to the spot next to him were someone had carved a small whole heart. It was worn from all the times he had traced it over the years. Will remember the first time it had been there, it was back when he only visited this spot once a year. He had settled in similarly like he had today and then he had reached down like always to pretend that he was holding Lyra's soft hand. But his fingers stopped when he felt the small carving that was sloppy and reminded him of her. He could remember more clearly her kind face with a look of constant determination, the feel of her hand in his and her voice spinning stories like she was catching them from the air. That day he felt closer to her than ever before. Will felt like she was there sitting next to him and after that Will returned to that spot everyday in hopes that her presence would be there. But it never was.

Will like every day began to speak quietly to the empty space next to him, telling her about his day, the bores and frustration of his job. As his speech came to a close he felt the lump of yarn in his throat as he told her how he missed her, loved her, and still could not imagine moving on like they had suggested. Will closed his eyes in frustration and pain, the frustration of not being able to be with her and the pain of losing her.

Lyra walked slowly to the bench like she did every day after her afternoon classes. Her thoughts were a muddled mess, like always after philosophy, but the pain in her heart always cut through. She and Pan slowly sat down, Lyra felt much older than she was. And she wished she was, because then she could be with Will sooner. They could be the molecules of a river or just the wind, together not separated like they were now. Her hand reached down to the sloppy heart she had carved one midsummer's day.

Lyra had carved it so whoever else sat there could see it was a bench for love, whether it was lost or not. This bench was for her and Will. She wanted people to think about love while they sat there not anger or hate, unless it was for their broken hearts that mirrored her own. How many times had she sat there crying and cursing the world for doing this to her and Will? Too many to count or even bother thinking about.

She traced the heart with her finger and felt her heart race as she began to speak quietly to him like always. Lyra explained the emptiness of her classes and how lonely she felt. No one could ever understand her and her broken heart. They tried for awhile but soon found her now solemn manner much to boring for them and their free hearts. If Lyra had tears to spare, she probably would have cried for the loss of friendship but she spent her tears at night for Will.

Will's breathe caught in his throat as he felt something like a dream or a touch separated by worlds. It felt like her hand, her finger tracing the sloppy heart at the same time his was. His heart pounded as he felt it again, it was a ghost's touch but never had he ever felt her. Will knew without a doubt it was her, no one had ever made his heart pound like her. He had tried but every other girl felt like a shadow, a simple copy of what someone should be. Will pressed his whole hand over the heart and almost cried when he felt her hand, a butterfly's touch, rest on top of his hand.

Lyra's heart was in her throat as she felt the thin wisp of his calloused fingers tracing the heart. Tears fell from her eyes, he was there and she could almost feel his hand. Suddenly she felt the ghost his hand flatten out over the heart and Lyra slowly moved to put her hand on the soft air that was him.

"Will…? Oh God, Will, are you really there? Or is just my mind grasping at threads that aren't even there?" Lyra whispered desperately. Pan let out a small cry in response. Lyra felt her body shake in hopes that he could answer, that just for this moment he could be there, almost like they weren't separated by worlds.

Will heard the soft murmur that must be her and cried in joy and frustration because he could not make out words. His heart felt whole and it was ready to bounce out of his chest.

"Lyra…Oh Lyra. I can hear you but not words just a murmur. Lyra, I love you. Can you hear me?"

She heard a murmur but couldn't make out words. Lyra wanted to cry from the joy of him actually being there and also the madness of not knowing what he was saying. She suddenly realized this might be all she'll have for awhile and she must enjoy this moment. Even though it wasn't ideal, it was perfect and she became consumed by emotion. All the feelings of being lost were taken over by love. Lyra loved Will and for this moment they could be together.

She was there, she was there and she seemed so close. His Lyra, she was _there_ and that's all that matters. Will was lost in the faint feel of her hand and the occasional murmur. His heart was full of nothing but love, in this moment there was no hopelessness or anger. It was simply love. And for once in the time since he had left Lyra he felt whole, he felt completely whole, no cracks or gaps in his heart. This moment was perfect.

Will and Lyra sat like that for hours; they both watched as the sun dipped behind the trees and then dip below the horizon. That sat under the stars letting the moment sink in and consume them. They sat letting hands touch and listened to the murmurs but not understanding.

They sat that way until police officers came and insisted they leave. They parted hands and left the bench, the sloppy heart drawn by Lyra, and a piece of their hearts behind. Every day they will return hoping for another perfect moment, and to get their hearts mended and broken. They will return in the hopes that they could really feel the hand of the other and not just the ghost touch. And in hopes of not just having murmurs but words. That somehow someone will let them be together.

And maybe someday they will.


End file.
